


when all the demons come alive (I'll still be under your spell)

by annabeth_writes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Beth Greene, Beth Greene Lives, But it doesn't happen, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Reunions, Team Family, Terminus (The Walking Dead), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, claimers, the claimers and terminus serve as their own warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Post 4x13 - Beth saves herself from the ones who took her but walks away fractured and changed in a world that is nothing like the one she knew before, because she knows that Daryl Dixon is dead. Reunited with familiar faces, she forces herself to scrape together the will to survive from the remnants of her heart. As they follow the signs that point to a sanctuary that she isn't sure she believes in, Beth struggles to figure out who she is now and where she fits now that everything has changed.One single night shifts her world once more as they confront a violent group with a thirst for revenge and the very man that haunts her comes walking out of the darkness.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 24
Kudos: 105





	when all the demons come alive (I'll still be under your spell)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is one of many fics that I have planned. This is just the first chapter, and I know that it's a long one. I actually planned for it to be a oneshot but I changed my mind so we'll just have a few very long chapters. I have no idea how many yet. I have a vague idea about what the ending will be but nothing concrete planned. We'll see where this story takes us, I guess!
> 
> Title: Heaven or Hell by Digital Daggers

Time moved so quickly that she wasn’t sure what was happening until she was right in the middle of it. One second, she was closing her hand around her saving grace in the form of a forgotten tire iron shoved in the depths of the trunk. The next, the car slowed to a stop and she heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing. Shoes on gravel, the steps drawing closer to her. She gripped her weapon tighter, her heart picking up pace in her chest as all thoughts of pain seemed to fade away.

As the trunk eased open, Beth forced her eyes to stay closed and played the part of an unconscious and helpless girl. Her hand stayed behind her back, hiding the tire iron against the length of her spine. Her adrenaline kicked up as she heard a hum of appreciation from above and felt a hand brush her hair out of her face. It went against every instinct she had to stay still and not jerk away out of sheer disgust and anger.

 _I made it,_ she told herself in her mind. _I made it this far and I’ll keep going._

The man’s hand drifted down, his thumb tracing her jaw and inching ever closer to her lips. Beth took hold of the opportunity without hesitation, snapping her head to the side and sinking her teeth into his wrist as hard as she could. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as he let out a shout of shock and pain, wrenching his arm away and forcing the skin to tear. As he staggered back, Beth threw herself out of the trunk and spat his blood onto the ground once she found her feet.

Lifting the tire iron like a baseball bat, she took a step forward and swung it in a wide arc. A low thud resonated through the air as it connected with the side of his head, sending him careening towards the ground. Beth felt a surge of anger, burning bright and hot in her chest as he let out a groan and tried to push himself up. What gave him the right to take her like she was nothing more than some object he picked up on the side of the road? She didn’t give him a chance to recover, wrapping both hands around the metal bar before bringing it down over her head to hit him again. 

This time, he didn’t move again. Beth breathed heavily, realizing with a cold shiver that curled down her spine that he was dressed like a police officer. She felt the tire iron start to slip from her grip just in time to hear a noise behind her. She whirled around and saw a second cop standing a few feet away, one hand on the holstered gun at his waist and a grin on his face as if his partner wasn’t lying on the ground unconscious. Beth tightened her grip on the weapon again and stumbled away from him.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” he said, lifting his other hand in a calming motion as if she was a wild animal that needed placating. “Let’s go ahead and put that down before you get hurt, huh?”

Beth didn’t bother saying a word, simply raising the higher so that he could see that she had no intention of disarming herself. His smile didn’t even falter as he eased a step closer without even looking at the crumpled form of the other officer. Didn’t he care that she’d attacked him? Why wasn’t he angry? His eyes swept over her from head to toe and she found her answer in the predatory look he gave her. He didn’t care about the other man because he wanted her. Beth felt her skin crawl at his leering gaze. 

Nothing at all like the intense yet oddly gentle looks that Daryl had been giving her lately. A gasp rose to her lips and she could have kicked herself for not remembering sooner. Daryl. The funeral home. The herd. Her eyes swept the area for any sign of him. There was no one else in the car that she could see. No crossbow aiming at these men who dared to snatch her from the side of the road. He wasn’t there.

“Where is he?” Beth demanded, looking to the cop again.

He titled his head to the side, feigning confusion. She wasn’t dumb. It was all too perfect. The too clean house stocked with plenty of food. A herd that just happened to stumble on them, sending her running towards the road where this car just happened to be waiting to take her. Beth knew now that it was all a trap. And she had to find out what happened to Daryl.

“There was a man with me. What happened to him?”

Her heart beat a wild pace in her chest as the cop took another step forward. Beth stumbled back, shaking her head.

“Don’t come any closer.”

It happened quickly. A muffled snap from the line of trees behind her. Beth turned around on instinct, fearing that it might be a walker. She didn’t hear him coming until he was right there, wrenching the tire iron from her grasp. She barely managed to turn back around before pain exploded in her cheek, the blow sending her sprawling across the ground with no way to defend herself apart from her own two hands. 

Blinking through the black spots that crowded her vision, she tried to get up only for two hands to seize her, flipping her over to her back. Then there was a weight on her legs pinning her down. Beth twisted her head in time to see the cop staring down at her with eager excitement in his eyes. He shoved his gun back in the holster at his waist and Beth realized that he must have hit her with it. The pain throbbing in her cheek was too much for just a hand to have caused it.

“We were gonna be gentle with you, you know?” he said, pinning her wrists to the ground as she tried to snuggle beneath him. “Now I guess that’s out the window, huh sweetheart?”

Beth could feel the gravel digging into her knuckles as he held both wrists with one hand. The other drifted down, pushing aside her grey sweater before inching the faded yellow golf shirt up. His fingers were cold and clammy, making her cry out with rage, fear, and disgust as he swept his hand over her stomach, moving higher and higher as she bucked and wiggled beneath him in an effort to get away. Finally, just as his fingers brushed the underwire of her bra, one of her hands wrenched free of his grip and she raked her nails down his cheek.

Blood dripped down his face as he slammed his fist into the same cheek. Then a hand wrapped around her throat and Beth began clawing at it desperately, arching her back and kicking as much as she could with no success. His eyes were cold now, no amusement or desire on his face. Just blood and scratches and the clear intent to kill her here and now. The other hand joined the first, squeezing even harder than before. Her body convulsed beneath him, her lungs screaming for air and her vision growing darker and darker as the seconds ticked by.

Beth tried everything that she could, clawing at his face again and aiming for his eyes only to grow weaker. He looked perversely satisfied, watching as he slowly drained the life from her. Voices in Beth’s head screamed at her to fight, all of them familiar in a way that she couldn’t recall. Not when she was seconds away from death. She closed her eyes, feeling drawn ever closer to unconsciousness when she remembered. 

His belt. 

The gun. 

Her hands searched blindly and he was far too focused on watching her die slowly to feel when her hand wrapped around the grip of his gun. She jerked beneath him as he slowly relaxed his grip and he must have assumed that it was a final bid for freedom judging by the grin on his face. She realized then that he didn’t want her to die. Just to be deprived of air long enough that it would be harder for her to fight. Beth felt his hands at her jeans, popping the button open with that smile still on his face.

A smile that disappeared just as a loud bang shattered the air around them.

Beth barely heard it, her shoulder feeling the kickback that had nowhere to go as his hands slackened and he lurched away from her. She laid there, gasping and coughing desperately as she pressed a hand over her burning throat. Her body still felt on the verge of passing out but she managed to push herself up, eventually getting her feet beneath her amidst a slew of blistering curses aimed her way. Beth lifted her head, meeting his furious eyes through the strands of hair that had fallen from her ponytail.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed, practically foaming at the mouth as he pressed both hands over the bullet wound in his abdomen. “I’m gonna kill you for this. I’ll rip you limb from limb and make sure you’re alive for every second of it when I leave you to the goddamn rotters! They’ll eat every bit of you while you scream!”

_“I wish I could just… change.”_

Beth’s hand rose slowly from her side, taking aim at the man’s leg.

_“You did.”_

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, keeping from feeling the extent of her injuries as she stood steadily on the spot.

_“Not enough.”_

Beth stared him down, letting him see that she wasn’t scared of him. That she had no reason to fear him. That she was in control.

“Where is he?” she said, her voice raspy and hoarse beneath the swelling and bruising that had already formed in her throat.

The police officer lifted his head just enough to spit her way.

“Fuck you!”

Beth squeezed the trigger, even though she knew that guns were the last thing she should use out in the open like this. There weren’t any walkers on the otherwise abandoned road but that could so easily change if she kept making all this noise. The man’s agonized scream ripped through the air just like the bullet did the same to his knee. She hadn’t ever shot someone like this. She felt a churn in her gut, threatening to bring up all that she’d managed to eat that day. The feast that Daryl laid out for them.

Her eyes burned with tears as she remembered the earnest look on his face. How he swept her so easily into his arms even though he complained that she was heavier than she looked more than once. His eyes in the candlelight, intense and guarded and yet shining with something. Something that she thought she recognized. Something that they never had the chance to act on. Her lower lip trembled as she took a step closer, crouching down at the police officer’s side.

“Where the hell is he,” Beth said, looking into his bloodshot eyes.

As she spoke each word slowly, there was a moment when she thought she might have seen fear in the man’s eyes. Then he bared his teeth in a grin and she saw blood on the corners of his mouth.

“He was bit. Came stumbling out of those woods, calling your name and trying to hide it but I saw,” he said, clearly relishing in each word that he spoke. “I put him down myself.”

The world shifted around her, colors growing dimmer and everything looking just a little bit different. Off. As if it all just morphed into something it was never supposed to be. Not while she was still breathing. Because she was never supposed to face something like this. It hadn’t been the moonshine speaking, when she said those words all those weeks ago. Daryl Dixon was supposed to last forever. Her mind screamed out in denial, refusing to believe it. But the man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the choking sob that slipped through her lips.

She stumbled away from him, realizing that he enjoyed seeing her pain. Beth pressed a hand over her mouth and as her body struggled to remember how to breathe. Her other hand trembled as she lifted the gun again without truly thinking through what she was about to do, driven by nothing more than rage and devastation. She squeezed the trigger again and again, barely even noticing movement in the corner of her eye. The bullets hit him in the chest and stomach, one after another until she emptied the clip, cutting through the name emblazoned on his chest with the last of them.

Gorman.

She would never forget that name.

The gun clattered to the ground but it wasn’t enough. Beth kicked at his lifeless form with tears falling down her cheeks, words falling from her lips in hoarse shouts that she wasn’t even aware of as she kept seeing that poisonous smile of his again and again in her mind. Daryl, lying dead back at that funeral home. Where he wanted to stay to see if they could make it work. For her. For _them_. Beth almost doubled over at the wave of pure anguish that swept through her. Arms caught her around the waist and she fought as they dragged her away, kicking out and still screaming.

“Beth,” a familiar voice cut through the haze in her mind.

“No!” she yelled, trying to free herself from the cage of his unbreakable grip. “He killed him! He killed Daryl!”

Rick froze for just a moment before turning her around. Beth beat her hands against his chest until her strength waned and she found herself weeping into his shirt, his hand cradling the back of her head. As her knees grew weak, Rick sank to the ground and took her with him, still holding her close. A small callused hand slipped into hers and squeezed lightly just to let her know that he was there. But all that she could see was Daryl’s face. That look in his eyes as he stared back at her in the low candlelight. Like she was all he wanted and all he would ever need.

_“What changed your mind?”_

He was gone.

_“Oh.”_

She finally changed.

*****

Beth stirred at the sound of Michonne’s voice, feeling Carl’s hand still holding onto hers. She wasn’t asleep but her numb state was close enough to it that she was barely aware of her surroundings until the woman spoke.

“We can’t stay here much longer.”

She lifted her head from Rick’s chest, feeling their eyes on her as she wiped the remnants of tears from her cheeks. Beth couldn’t bring herself to look at them, almost hating that they’d seen her break down like that. That they watched her kill a man in such a way. She tilted her head towards Carl without quite meeting his eyes, giving him as close to a smile as she could manage before gently pulling her hand out of his. As she rose to her feet, the pain in her head gave a nasty throb and she swayed on the spot, feeling more than one hand steadying her.

“I’m fine,” she said, nearly wincing at the awful sound of her voice as she pulled her shirt back down and fastened the button on her pants.

Beth lifted her hand to her throat, prodding at the tender skin and gritting her teeth at the memory of those hands wrapped around it. The same hands that took away one of the last good men left in this world. Beth didn’t look at the cop. Didn’t want to see the damage she’d done to him. As she made her way towards the car with the cross in the back windshield, she couldn’t help but think of those questions they used to ask the newcomers at the prison.

_How many walkers had she killed?_

Too many to count.

_How many people had she killed?_

One.

_Why?_

She didn’t let herself even consider the answer, peering into the window of the backseat before yanking it open and dragging out the open duffle bag of weapons that sat on the seat. On top of the rest, the knife that _he_ had given her. Beth didn’t even realize that her belt was undone until she slipped it back on and refastened it. She knew they hadn’t done anything else to her. They didn’t have the chance. After tucking a loaded handgun into the back of her pants, Beth heard Rick come closer and watched as he knelt by the bag to look through the weapons inside. Satisfied by the collection of guns and ammo, he zipped it and picked it up by the handles. Once he rose to his feet, he lifted his head and their eyes met. Beth suspected that her eyes were every bit as red-rimmed as his own.

“Can you get us back there?”

Beth knew that he wanted to be sure. She would have wanted the same if there was any hope of finding her way back to the funeral home. But she shook her head, casting her eyes towards the car.

“They had me in there,” she said, nodding at the wide-open trunk.

Rick let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. Beth’s eyes flitted from him to Michonne to Carl, seeing the gaping wound of the losses they’d suffered. Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized who was missing. She didn’t even have to ask. Didn’t want to. They didn’t have Judith. That was the only confirmation that she needed. If they thought the little girl was alive, there wasn’t a corner of the world that Rick and Carl Grimes wouldn’t tear into to find her. That they were here with defeat in their eyes told her all that she needed to know. She let out a shuddering breath, ducking her chin to her chest as a new wave of tears threatened to fall. A moment passed before Rick stepped forward and carefully cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“C’mon,” he whispered after a moment.

“Wait.”

Michonne stopped them in their tracks, her eyes on the treeline. Following the line of her gaze, Beth could see movement in the shadows. Walkers. Gorman lay with his unseeing gaze fixed on the sky but the other officer was most likely still alive. They’d at least give them a head start from whatever walkers were drawn by the sound of her firing the gun.

“Someone might come looking for them,” Michonne said, nodding at the two police officers. “Might want to investigate how this happened. Start looking around for who did it.”

Rick stepped away from Beth and Carl after a moment, crossing to the car and crouching down next to a rear wheel. Michonne drew her katana from over her shoulder to stand guard at his side as the low hiss of a tire losing air filled the air. The first walker stumbled from the trees, rotting and horrible as it sniffed out the blood that lingered in the air. Beth backed away slowly, tugging Carl along with her with her hand on his wrist. She could sense his tension. Knew that he wanted to surge forward and help. But she kept him close as Rick straightened with a nod.

“They pulled over for a flat tire, got attacked,” he said, hoisting the bag of weapons up on his shoulder. “That’s all anyone’ll think.”

Beth nodded when he glanced her way, following him once they began walking away from the grisly scene behind them. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, her eyes fixed forward without really seeing. She was just following, barely aware of when Michonne brushed a soothing hand over her shoulder or Carl fell into step at her side just like he always did that winter after they lost the farm. The prison had been a beautiful sign of hope in her eyes. Now all she could do was look back and think of how much they’d lost since then.

Maybe it was never a sign of hope.

Maybe it was warning them all that the worst was yet to come.

*****

There was so much that they left unspoken in the days that followed.

Her dad.

Judith.

Maggie.

Daryl.

All the others.

They didn’t talk about it. Beth wondered if they were waiting for it to stop hurting. But since it seemed like it never would, she knew that they would just have to push past the hurt.

They couldn’t stay quiet forever.

*****

She lost track of how many days they walked, spending nights in ransacked homes and dilapidated buildings along the way. Finding whatever supplies they could to keep them going. Beth let them fuss over the wound on her head and the dark bruises on her throat and cheek but refused to let any of them help her if it got a little hard to walk on her still-sore ankle. It reminded her too much of _him._ The only respite from the darkness of her thoughts was Carl and Michonne.

They constantly started so many lighthearted conversations with plenty of banter that they were a pretty good distraction from all the rest. Beth even found herself smiling once or twice when Rick would huff out a quiet laugh at their antics. Other times, she found herself thinking about those questions. The two that were easy enough to answer and the one that she didn’t want to think about. But she couldn’t stop. Why? Why did she kill Gorman that way? There were so many answers.

_Why?_

He was a bad man.

Not enough. There were plenty of bad men in the world. Beth didn’t empty a clip into their chests.

_Why?_

He killed Daryl.

Not enough. She’d lost others and didn’t try to go after their killers with a gun. 

_Why?_

Daryl deserved to live.

Not enough. He wasn’t the only one in the world that deserved to live. Her daddy was right up there on the list, with Lori and Andrea and Judith and everyone she knew who died. Around and around she went, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter. Unable to stop thinking about it long enough to believe that. 

*****

They found a house set back in the woods, every inch covered in dust and no sign of anyone around, living or dead. They banged loudly on the doors and windows just to make sure, clearing the house before searching it high and low for anything they’d need. Beth found herself in the master bedroom, dropping extra pairs of socks from one of the dresser drawers into her pack. She snatched up a half-used chunk of soap and some shampoo too, just in case they found a river to wash up in, along with extra wash rags and a brush.

Michonne walked into the closet just as she found a set of gloves and two knit beanies. The other woman reached into the depths of the closet where the shadows hid a sturdy black jacket with a hood, clearly cut to fit the shape of a slim woman. She thrusted it towards Beth instead of taking it for her own, simply frowning when and eyeing the threadbare sweater that hung from her frame when Beth tried to refuse. She knew that Michonne wouldn’t be taking no for an answer after watching her shiver in the nights when they had to go without a fire to keep anyone else from stumbling on their camp. 

So Beth slowly shed the grey sweater yet couldn’t quite bring herself to drop it. Grasping it in both hands, she hesitated for a moment as tears welled in her eyes at the thought of leaving it behind. It smelled something fierce, just like the rest of her, but it was all aside from the blade on her hip. Beth knew she must look ten steps past insane as she cried over something as simple as a sweater but it meant more to her than that. More than she could even put into words but she had to try before Michonne decided she’d lost her mind completely.

“He got it for me,” Beth said quietly, unable to express why that mattered so much. “Knew I was gettin’ cold at night and took us out of our way to find it. He’d never take us into towns if we could help it but…”

She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders and wishing that she had more to say. A way to express just what kind of man that Daryl Dixon was, even if the other woman already knew.

“But he wanted to take care of you,” Michonne said, a deep, unwavering certainty in her words that just brought more tears to Beth’s eyes.

She nodded slowly, still clutching at the sweater.

“Keep it.”

Beth’s eyes snapped up out of surprise and she shook her head slowly.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, trying to summon the will to leave it.

She could almost hear Daryl’s voice in her head, urging her to keep going. No looking back. No weighing herself down for something so small, even if it meant so much. _Ain’t got room for that nostalgic shit, Greene._ Inhaling a shaking breath, she parted her fingers to let it slip through. But Michonne’s hand darted out before she could let it fall, snatching it away and folding it as small as she could before shoving into Beth’s pack with all the rest.

“It’s okay to hold on,” she said simply, holding Beth’s gaze for a single moment before turning to leave the closet.

Glancing at the sweater one more time, Beth nodded to herself and wiped away her tears. Once the pack was zipped and she made herself comfortable in her new jacket, Beth left the bedroom to join the others.

*****

The day they reached the railroad tracks, the sun was shining brightly and giving off just enough warmth to make it a nice day. They walked about a mile before they saw the first sign. It didn’t seem like anything new to the others but Beth’s eyes traced the words more than once.

**SANCTUARY  
FOR ALL  
** **COMMUNITY  
FOR ALL  
THOSE WHO ARRIVE  
** **SURVIVE**

She looked to Rick with a small frown, seeing the understanding in his eyes and feeling relieved that she wasn’t the only skeptical one.

“If anyone else survived and they saw this, they’ll be headed there,” he said with a confidence that almost reminded her of the Rick that had been so determined to find them a place to build into permanence during that long, hard winter.

Beth hesitated a moment before giving him a nod, knowing that it was their best chance at finding anyone else they knew. If there was anyone left. They barely made it another ten steps before she saw the second sign and got her answer, scrawled out messily in rotten blood from the dead walker that lay splayed nearby.

**GLENN  
** GO TO TERMINUS  
MAGGIE ****

She stared at the sign until the letters all blurred together. A mix of conflicted feelings rose in her. Maggie was alive. She was going in the same direction as them. She’d been split up from Glenn and she was looking for him. But she’d been split up from Beth too, and that sign was only meant for one person.

“Hey,” Rick said, reaching out for her as she stepped away.

“She thinks I’m dead,” Beth said in that same raspy voice she couldn’t seem to shake.

 _She thinks you're weak,_ a voice whispered in her mind. _Too weak to survive._

“We’ll find her,” Rick promised, bracing a hand on her shoulder.

Beth nearly pushed him away, feeling a sharp discomfort rise within her. She didn’t want to be touched but didn’t know how to tell him that. Before Beth had never shied away from touches. She welcomed hugs and bestowed kisses on cheeks and snuggled with Judith every day like the little girl was her own. Now Beth was a different story. She didn’t know when that happened. Holding hands with Daryl at that grave felt like the most natural thing in the world. His strong arms holding her up and carrying her into the kitchen made her practically giddy with glee. Now… now she was just different.

_“I wish I could just change.”_

She should have known better by now. Things rarely turned out the way they wanted.

 _Be careful what you wish for,_ that same voice sang mockingly in her head.

*****

“I was tryin’ to find her,” Beth finally said one night over a crackling fire in an old warehouse, breaking their unspoken agreement not to talk about the losses that tore their hearts to pieces.

Michonne and Carl were asleep several feet away. Rick volunteered to take the first watch. Beth simply couldn’t sleep, so she sat up with him. His eyes lifted, fixing on her as she stared into the flames.

“I got off the bus cause I didn’t see anyone holdin’ her. I looked everywhere but…”

She trailed off, turning her face away to tuck her chin into her shoulder.

“We found her seat,” Rick said after a moment, his voice thick with emotion. “There, uh… there was some blood but she wasn’t…”

Beth closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to rise, refusing to let herself cry. She’d done it too much already and there wasn’t any use in shedding more tears. It didn’t make any of them come back.

“I saw him there, through all the smoke, and all I could think was thank _God_ at least I found someone. And he told me that we had to run. So we did,” she said, turning to look back at the fire once she got control over herself. “We ran and ran and ran until we collapsed. Then we just started walkin’.”

She hesitated, knowing that there was so much that she could tell him and so much that she didn’t want anyone else to know. She might be the only one in the world with those memories now but that didn’t mean they got to belong to anyone else. Beth was quite certain that she’d seen parts of Daryl Dixon that no one else had and she was determined to keep those parts close to her heart.

“We went in circles, tryin’ to find anyone else. Then we broke off, headed west a bit. Then north and back east again. Just tryin’ to live, I guess.”

“Live,” Rick repeated, picking out that word over all the others. “Not just survive?”

Beth felt warmth rise in her cheeks, wondering if he saw through her that easily. Finally lifting her eyes, she met his and saw no blame in them. No judgment. Just curiosity and a bit of confusion. Beth couldn’t exactly blame him. Back at the prison, there were no two people who would make a partnership as odd as them. But looking back, she remembered how easy it came after that night with the moonshine.

“He was teachin’ me how to survive,” Beth said, looking back down at the fire. “How to fight and hunt and track. Even let me use his crossbow.”

She could feel his surprise without looking at him again and she knew why. He never let anyone else even touch his precious crossbow and they all knew just how off-limits it was to everyone. Everyone except her, once she wore him down on it.

“Guess I was tryin’ to show him that there was still good in this world. That we _could_ live in it,” she said, remembering the series of conversations they had about it. “ _God_ , I was so damn stupid.”

Beth let out a choked, trembling sob and barely resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands and cry some more.

“That’s not true,” Rick said with a shake of his head.

She didn’t bother to argue, forcing herself to breathe deeply until she didn’t feel like she would cry anymore.

“A herd came out to where we were holed up,” Beth said, picking at a fraying thread on her jeans. “Last I saw him, he was tryin’ to hold them all off so I’d have the chance to get away. I ran out into the road and next thing I knew, everything was dark and I was in that trunk.”

“That man could have lied,” Rick said, ducking his head down until she looked into his eyes. “He might be alive and headed to the same place as us.”

Beth wanted to believe him but it was too hard. It hurt too much.

“What has hope like that ever done for us?” she whispered.

Rick’s jaw clenched for a moment and he looked over at Carl and Michonne where they were sleeping. Beth thought that he may not want to talk anymore until he looked at her again with determination in his eyes.

“Anyone ever tell you that I was in a coma when this all started?”

*****

They never talk about her dad. Beth suspected that Rick had no idea what to say.

She didn’t blame him.

She didn’t know what to say either.

*****

They veered away from the tracks to find water a few days later and found themselves camped on the side of a road next to a broken-down SUV. They were nearly out of food and Carl sat next to Beth as she wove traps just how _he_ taught her. There was a knowing look in the boy’s eyes. He didn’t even have to ask where she learned it.

“I think a part of me didn’t even believe he _could_ die,” Carl said after a while.

Beth grew still, staring down at the rope in her hands as she tried to breathe through the ache that throbbed in her chest every time she thought about him.

The last man standing.

If only she knew then.

“Wanna help me set these up?” she asked, looking up at Carl.

He gave her a wide smile, briefly looking like the boy he might have been in another lifetime. But here and now, they didn’t get to be that way. No matter how young any of them were, this life made them all grow up quicker than they ever should have. Age didn’t mean a thing with all they’d been through. But Beth knew she’d do almost anything to keep seeing smiles like that on Carl’s face. He deserved that happiness, even if she didn’t think she’d ever get a chance to feel it again. By the time night fell, Beth found herself sitting with Rick and Michonne this time, enjoying the fruits of her labor as Carl slumbered away inside the car. She didn’t waste a piece of her allotted portion of rabbit meat, devouring it all without hesitation.

“That was one small rabbit,” Rick sighed.

Beth nodded in agreement, taking no offense. She was happy enough that they caught it but knew that it wasn’t enough for the four of them.

“It was something,” Michonne said, tossing another stick into their small fire. “Got to hand it to the thing. It traveled well.”

Rick let out a soft laugh and nodded his head. Beth couldn’t help but watch them, sensing a draw that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had and weeks on the road only made it turn to something different. Whatever weak connection she had with Daryl before certainly changed. He barely spoke two words a month to her at the prison. Not cause he was rude, but because he was just Daryl. But then… then everything changed. She didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t. Not unless she wanted to cry some more.

“For a while, the only thing he could catch was mud snakes,” Beth said quietly to distract herself, nearly shuddering as she remembered the taste and texture of those things. “I just about wanted to kill him every time he showed up with another one’a them slung over his shoulder.”

Michonne smiled just slightly as Rick gave another quiet chuckle.

“Bet he was pretty satisfied about it,” he said after a minute.

“Yeah, he was,” Beth said with a nod. “But I think he may have been all enthusiastic about ‘em on purpose, just to spite me. He knew how much I hated ‘em.”

She didn’t realize that she was smiling until the bruise on her cheek reminded her that it was there. Cutting her eyes away from the other two, Beth stared off into the dark line of trees and wondered if he was with his mother now. Or maybe he was with his brother. He never admitted that he missed him but she knew. She knew just like she knew what he was thinking that night.

_Why?_

Because it wasn’t fair.

Not enough. Life wasn’t fair.

_Why?_

Because they deserved to finish that conversation. She never got to hear the words that were on the tip of his tongue. Never got to say what she was thinking.

Not enough. Plenty of people didn’t get to say goodbye. She hated goodbyes anyway.

_Why?_

She cared about him.

Not enough. Rick had been married to Lori for years before she died. Carl had to shoot his mother. Carol lost Sophia, her own daughter. Michonne had a kid too. She never said anything but Beth suspected ever since she saw her crying over Judith. She cared about him? They all lost the people they loved in awful ways and managed to keep going without killing anyone like that.

_Why?_

She could have loved him. Given time, Beth knew that she could have. Would have. Maybe already did, a little bit.

Was that enough?

Beth was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the sound of a branch snapping in the depths of the trees at her back. If she did, she probably wouldn’t have let it go as easily as Rick and Michonne. All that Daryl taught her would have put her on guard immediately. But she didn’t hear it. Didn’t even see Rick rise to his feet to scan the trees before sitting back down. The only thing that pulled her from her thoughts was his hand on her shoulder about a minute later. She snapped out of it and jerked away from him, seeing the apology in his eyes as his hand fell away.

“You should go get some rest,” he said, tilting his head towards the car where Carl was sleeping. “We’ll hold down the fort the rest of the night.”

Beth wanted to tell him that she wasn’t even tired but it wouldn’t be true. She was tired every day, carrying around a bone deep exhaustion that had nothing to do with sleeping.

_“Just tired of losin’ people, s’all.”_

She wondered if he felt like this that day. If it ever stopped for him. If she would ever feel free of the weight of loss and regret that pressed down more and more each day. She didn’t think she would. A part of her didn’t want to. Being free meant forgetting, and Beth didn’t ever want to forget Daryl Dixon. Realizing that Rick and Michonne were watching her, she gave a slow nod and rose slowly to her feet only to freeze when she heard the telling sound of a gun being cocked. Before she could even think of moving, the cool metal of a blade pressed to her throat and a meaty hand gripped her arm through her jacket.

“Not so fast, darlin’,” a voice whispered in her ear.

Beth shuddered as his hot breath hit her skin, her eyes flitting to the side to see a man with greying hair holding a gun to Rick’s head and another kick Michonne’s katana away before she could take hold of it.

“You fucked up, asshole!” the grey-haired man crowed as he pressed the muzzle of his gun flush to Rick’s temple. “You hear me? You fucked up.”

A shiver of dread curled up the length of her spine at the sheer, vindictive satisfaction in the man’s voice. There was something in the depths of Rick’s eyes that told her all that she needed to know. He knew exactly who these people were and why there was a gun pressed to his temple. His eyes darted towards the car where Carl slept. It was just a matter of time before he noticed what was going on on the road. Just a matter of time before they saw him too. Beth hadn’t prayed in ages but now, with her heart beating frantically in her chest, Beth prayed that Carl would go unnoticed.

“Today’s the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. Balancing of the whole damn universe.”

The same man was still talking as more men drift forward from the shadows, brandishing guns and looking almost giddy with anticipation. The man holding the knife to Beth’s throat tugged her back against him, a snicker coming from deep in his chest as she shuddered away from her sudden, awful proximity to him. A tapping noise reached her ears and Beth glanced up with horror as a man grinned as if he won the lottery as Carl jerked awake and looked through the windows of the car with wide eyes, realizing quickly what was going on.

“Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year’s Eve.”

The man still threatening Rick with his gun, the clear leader of the others, let out a laugh that the others echoed gleefully. Beth wanted nothing more than to reach for the knife at her belt or the gun tucked into the back of her pants. Instead, she stood helplessly with her hands hanging uselessly at her sides. One wrong move and she knew that sharp knife at her throat could end everything. Curling her hands into fists, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands and bided her time.

There had to be something they could do. Some way to wiggle their way out of this. She couldn’t look at Rick without the knife cutting into her throat but her eyes fixed on Michonne who she could see just fine. The other woman looked from Rick to Beth to Carl, her gaze flitting from one to the other as the gears in her mind worked to come up with a solution. Beth was wracking her own brain, trying to figure out how they could get out of this without losing someone else.

“Now who’s gonna count the ball dropper with me, huh?” the man behind Rick called out, a wild grin on his face.

Beth trembled, wondering if she was really about to see Rick Grimes die. Another man who seemed eternal. Another man she would have to bury in the depths of her mind.

“Ten Mississippi…”

She saw the panic in Carl’s eyes, even though he sat so far away in that car. He didn’t look at the man taunting him through the window. His eyes were fixed on his dad, his face drained of all color and his lips moving as if he was begging Rick to do something. Anything.

“Nine Mississippi…”

Michonne looked like she was on the verge of lunging for her katana, danger be damned. Her body was tense, ready to spring to action at a moment’s notice. Beth’s hand twitched towards the knife at her hip but she knew she couldn’t so much as touch it without her throat getting nicked first. They had to do something. She couldn’t just stand there. Carl couldn’t lose another parent. Beth didn’t want him to be an orphan. Not like her.

“Eight Mississippi…”

She barely heard him call the leader’s name, interrupting the countdown as he materialized from the darkness itself. Beth couldn’t quite convince herself that she wasn’t seeing things, with the threat of death and violence lingering in the air. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if the last thing that her mind wanted to see was Daryl Dixon. But then it occurred to her that everything seemed to have stopped. As if the very earth stood still beneath her feet, rendered silent and motionless amidst the gravity of what she was seeing. Not just her. A quick glance around proved that everyone else could see him too.

And if they could see him too, that could only mean one thing.

Tears stung at her eyes as he looked back at her with just as much shock and awe as she was feeling now. Whatever happened to her world, however it got knocked off kilter and dulled by his supposed death, righted itself the very moment her eyes collided with his. She inhaled cool air greedily, as if she had been holding her breath since the last time she saw him and now she could finally, truly breathe. Everything fit together again as she saw his breath steam in the air, his eyes flitting from Beth to Rick and then Michonne before moving back to her.

It didn’t feel like this before. Maybe they were starting something at that funeral home, with tentative looks as they danced awkwardly around one another, trying to find their feet with all that was changing. All the new feelings that were stirred up the longer they were together. Now… now it was nothing like that. Everything else faded into the background and all that mattered was him. Solid and real and _beautiful_ where he stood, his lips mouthing her name as he took a stumbling step towards her.

Magnetic.

Like they were drawn together. Beth leaned forward as if to throw herself at him, only remembering the blade at her throat when she felt a stinging pain there. A gasp fell from her lips and she flinched back into the arms of the man who held her, feeling the slow drip of blood down the column of her throat. Daryl’s eyes dipped lower, following its path as he seemed to jolt back into reality at the same exact second she did, realizing just how much trouble they were in.

“Hold up,” he breathed, and she would swear on her momma’s grave that she never heard something as wonderful as Daryl Dixon’s voice in that moment of terrifying anticipation.

“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” the leader, Joe, said impatiently, stepping up closer behind Rick with his eyes fixed on Daryl.

Beth couldn’t look away from him, not even if she wanted to. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks, as her breaths escaped with soft, hitching sounds that betrayed her quiet weeping to everyone close enough to hear her.

“Just hold up,” Daryl said, his brow furrowing behind the curtain of his dark hair as he looked around at everyone before his eyes moved back to Beth as if he couldn’t help himself.

She understood exactly how he felt.

“This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about,” one of the other men growled out, brandishing his shotgun just a little higher where it was pointed towards Rick and Michonne.

Beth blinked with surprise, wondering when that had happened. She couldn’t bring herself to blame Rick for this. If he killed someone, there was a reason for it. He wasn’t like the others they’d come across, the Governor among them. Rick Grimes didn’t kill for sport. Judging by what she’d seen and heard of these men, she had no doubt that the situation was a little more complicated.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time,” Joe said, sounding oddly reasonable for a man who was set on committing murder. “Say your piece, Daryl.”

Beth’s eyes were still riveted to him as he took a step forward, closer to her. Every fiber of her being longed to reach out, consequences be damned, and she trembled with the effort of keeping herself still.

“These people, you’re gonna let ‘em go,” Daryl said quietly, a placating tone to his voice that just didn’t fit. “These are good people.”

There was a time when Beth wouldn’t see and hear what she did now. A time when she barely knew the man that stood before her. But after all that had happened and all that they had been through, she could see the look in the depths of his eyes and she could hear the subtle tremor in his words. He knew these men and there was no doubt in her mind that, in that moment, he was terrified of what they could do.

“Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that,” Joe said, sounding far from pleased at Daryl’s declaration. “I’ll, of course, have to speak for him on that, cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Daryl’s eyes swept over all of them again and this time, he didn’t look back at her. His eyes stayed fixed on Joe as he slowly laid down the trash bag in his hand.

“You want blood. I get it,” he said with a nod, bending down to place his crossbow on the ground.

Beth looked on in horror, somehow knowing exactly what he was going to say next.

“Take it from me, man.”

“No!” she cried, struggling in her captor’s arms without caring a lick about the sharp-edged blade at her throat.

She didn’t get to see Daryl’s reaction as she felt those meaty hands spin her around just before pain exploded in her already bruised cheek, sending her flying to the gravel-covered ground. Beth heard a distant shout but couldn’t quite hear it around the ringing in her ears, feeling one hand grip at her hair as the other hauled her up to sit, forcing her to look as Daryl took a lunging step forward only to still again with all the color drained from his face. Beth gritted her teeth against the stinging pain in her scalp as Daryl looked to Joe once more.

“Come on,” he urged, stretching his hand out in invitation.

Beth struggled in the man’s grip, her boots kicking uselessly at the ground as he held her tight against him. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t watch him die again after just now seeing that he’d been alive this whole time. That he wasn’t lost to her after all. But he was giving himself up, all the fight leaving him as he submitted to the will of these horrible men. Beth wanted to scream at him to fight but it felt like his passive surrender had stolen away her voice. This wasn’t like him. He’d never have given up like this before.

His eyes finally flitted to her and in their intense, wounded depths, she could see a desperation that clawed and tore at him. If she thought that he was dead all this time, what did he think happened to her? What awful possibilities had been locked in his mind since she disappeared in the trunk of that car? How must it feel, to see her now and face the horrible possibility of seeing her die right in front of him? Beth knew exactly how he felt, because she was facing the same damn thing.

“You got a claim on this sweet thing, Daryl?” Joe asked.

He flinched at the other man’s words, tearing his eyes away from Beth.

“Ain’t like that,” he said quietly.

Beth couldn’t turn her head to look but from the way Daryl swallowed hard, Joe must not have liked hearing that much. She shuddered as the man holding her shifted her around, one of his arms sliding around her waist while he pressed his nose and breathed her in.

“Hell, man, if you ain’t got a claim on her, I guess that leaves her open for the rest of us,” her captor said with a chuckle as he stroked her hair.

Daryl’s eyes flashed with fury but he didn’t so much as move from where he stood. Beth almost wanted to shut her eyes, not wanting to see him give up this way. Not wanting to see a Daryl Dixon with no fight in him.

“You let her go,” Daryl said, looking at the man who held her down. “You let all of them go and you take what I’m offerin’.”

“No.”

This time it was Rick, and Beth was glad that she wasn’t the only one trying to fight him on this.

“Shut the hell up,” Joe said, pressing the muzzle of his gun flush against Rick’s head again before looking up at Daryl with slightly narrowed eyes. “This man killed our friend. You say he’s good people.”

Joe shook his head slowly, lifting his hand to point at Daryl. 

“See, now that right there is a lie,” he said, wagging his finger as if he was a disappointed school teacher.

Something about his words made Daryl take a sudden step back, a look of sudden, horrible anticipation crossing his face as he shook his head.

“It’s a lie!” Joe shouted, his voice echoing all around them.

Before she could so much as blink, one of the men turned on the spot and drove the end of his shotgun into Daryl’s stomach, knocking the breath from him and sending him stumbling back into the middle of the road.

“Daryl!”

She lunged forward without a single thought for herself, scrambling over the cold ground desperately. A hand seized her ankle before she could get far, wrenching a pained cry from her lips as cruel fingers dug into the still-tender spots. Her hands scraped over the ground as he dragged her back before flipping her over. His weight pinned her down and Beth felt frozen for a single moment, remembering Gorman and his cruel smile. Sour breath washed over her face and she lifted her hands to fight him off only for him to knock them away and send her head careening to the side with the back of his hand.

A distant, familiar cry reached her ears as the man above her wrenched her jacket off of her shoulders, pinning her arms at her sides. Rick shouted at them to leave Carl alone as Beth screamed out to be let go, hearing the sound of fists hitting flesh behind her. That cold knife flashed in the moonlight before the man above her pressed the tip threateningly against the hollow of her throat, rending her utterly still as she held her breath, waiting for him to shove it in.

“Listen, it was me! It was just me!” Rick yelled, a desperate, haunted edge to his voice.

“See, now that’s right! That’s not some damn lie,” Joe said approvingly as Beth saw her attacker grin down at her. “Look, we can settle this. We’re reasonable men. First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death.”

Beth squeezed her eyes shut, hearing his grunts and wheezes of pain with every punch and hit that came his way. He had to be halfway there by now, with the two men beating on him without mercy.

“Then we’ll have the girls. Then the boy,” Joe continued, leaving Beth with no confusion as to her role in all of this. “Then I’m gonna shoot you and then we’ll be square.”

Joe’s laughter rang out into the night as Carl let out hoarse shouts and that knife at her throat dipped lower and lower, tracing over her skin until coming to the slit collar of her faded yellow golf shirt. One quick slice to tear into the fabric and then the clatter of the knife on the ground as he tossed it away, seizing her shirt with both hands. Her body jerked as she heard the ripping of fabric and Beth’s eyes flew open again when cold air hit the bare skin of her stomach. Feeling the urge to fight rise within her once more as her stomach churned with disgust, she struggled and bucked beneath his weight, refusing to let herself become a victim like this.

Gorman didn’t get to do this to her and neither would this man, with his cold, glittering eyes and meaty, wandering hands making their way from her hips up to her ribs, stopping just beneath her worn bra as the sound of a gunshot filled the air. Beth’s heart stopped in her chest as her attacker’s head jerked up and his eyes grew wide. There was no sound of a body hitting the ground. No indication that anyone was actually hit.

“I got him!” Joe yelled out, sounding somewhat winded but not defeated. “It’s gonna be so much worse now!”

Someone wheezed out a cough as a boot collided with their ribs. Her attacker looked positively gleeful at what he was seeing and Beth seized the opportunity that his distraction provided, her left hand finally taking hold of the knife sheathed at her hip. She swung it upwards, aiming for his throat only for his hand to close around her scarred wrist before she could slice through his skin.

They wrestled over the knife as she heard more scuffling and fighting happening all around her. With both hands gripping her arm tightly and forcing it back towards her own body, the attacker didn’t have much time to react as she jerked to the right and let the knife fall into the open palm of her other hand. Letting out a strangled shout of rage, Beth drove the knife between his ribs and pulled it out just as quickly as he choked and sputtered on the pain that followed.

Summoning every bit of strength she could gather, Beth shoved him away from her. A shot rang out behind her and the sound of a body hitting the ground with a thud reached her ears. Lunging forward and somehow knowing that she wasn’t the only one fighting now, she gave a wild slash with the knife and felt warm blood spray across her face when it connected with his throat. Beth’s chest heaved with every breath she took as she collapsed back on the rough asphalt, her trembling hands holding the tattered remains of her shirt closed as a cool wind ruffled her tangled hair and caressed her throbbing cheek.

Her attacker wavered on his knees, both hands trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood spilling from his open wound. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from the sight of the light fading from his eyes, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe it should have been harder to watch him die. But all she could think was that she was still alive. Still breathing. A lump rose in her throat as he collapsed to the ground and she finally felt free to look away, tears stinging her cold skin as she heard the sound of the last man dying. The one who tried to hurt Carl. Her eyes flitted from one fallen form to another, terrified to see someone she cared about lying there lifelessly.

Then she saw him, leaning against the hood of the car with a hand cradled to his ribs, beaten but still alive, and a shuddering sob tore its way from her throat.

His head snapped around to her as soon as he heard it and just as she staggered to her feet, he pushed himself away from the car and stumbled towards her. They met in the middle and Beth didn’t feel a single bit of shame as she collapsed into him, sending them both careening towards the ground. Daryl’s hands hovered over her face as if he didn’t dare touch her. She gripped at his shirt desperately as each of them took in the other’s injuries. Beth shifted her hand to his chest, tucking it beneath his vest to press gently over his heart, feeling its wild rhythm beneath her palm. A sudden swell of emotion rose in her chest and she almost couldn’t breathe with the overwhelming relief that she felt.

“I thought you were dead,” Beth choked out, looking up into his eyes. “He told me that he killed you.”

Daryl finally let his fingers brush her cheek, over one of the many bruises that she had.

“M’right here, girl,” he said in a quiet, rough voice.

Beth tipped forward, all but falling into his lap as she pressed her face into his shoulder and let the tears fall. A moment of stillness passed before he slowly lifted his hand, cupping the back of her head gently. This was all that it took. Seeing him there, holding him close, knowing that he was alive. Beth finally understood. She felt the fury and anguish slip away like they were never there, leaving her with nothing but peace in knowing that he was alive and breathing in her arms.

_How many people had she killed?_

Two.

_Why?_

Because they were bad men.

Because it was her or them.

Because she wanted to live.

Because she gave her heart to Daryl Dixon some time ago.

And he’d brought it back to her.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


End file.
